


Good Family

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Post AFFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: Jeyne Westerling meets Roslin Frey. The two find that they have a lot in common, beyond just being family by marriage.





	Good Family

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. if you want to read this in a romantic light, i'm totally fine with that (trust me, i'm 15k into a new sansaery fic right now so i do love me some femslash) but it's written more in a platonic light. take it as you will though   
> 2\. tytell lannister is my oc. we don't know the names of pretty much any lannisport lannisters so i had to make do. tytell is also a name made up by me, not grrm. i thought that it would fit with the ty naming scheme in the lannisters (tywin, tyrion, tygett, tyrek, and tytos)

The Twins are a grand fortress spanning the width of the Green Fork. A great stone tower stands on each side of the river, with a greater bridge running in between. The Frey stable boys have taken their horses, and Jeyne walks as close to the river as she dares as they make their way to the tower. She watches the river rush beside her in awe. She’s never seen a river run so wild before. It seems like the very waters rushing beside her want to rise up and drown her themselves.

Well, she can’t say that’s much of a surprise. She’s the woman who lost the Freys their Queenship- of course their river would want her dead. If she weren’t beside her betrothed, Jeyne is certain that the river would have pulled her down into it and drowned her by now.

She looks over to Tytell then, and he looks tall and confident and lordly as always. She wants to hate the man she’s betrothed to because of how it came to be, but it’s difficult. Tytell Lannister is a gallant man, patient with her while she mourns her husband who was his enemy. He’s a handsome man, all golden blonde hair, bright green eyes, and sunny smiles. And he’s a highborn man, rich and an heir to boot, first born son of Lord Tyrek Lannister of Lannisport.

If this were before she met Robb, Jeyne would have been thrilled to be betrothed to him. She’d think Tytell the perfect man. Now she knows that’s wrong though. _Robb_ was the perfect man; Tytell is just the best she can get afterwards. A whole host of Frey men meet them at the gates of the castle, allowing them to follow inside. The ceilings are high, but the Frey banners hanging from the walls are so low that the men almost have to duck to avoid hitting their heads on them. Jeyne finds it quite tacky but she doesn't say anything.

She doesn't voice many opinions these days. It would draw too much attention to her, and Jeyne likes not being noticed. As the widow of an "enemy" king betrothed to a lord on the "right" side who's still loyal to her "traitor" husband, that's normally for the best.

“Lord Tytell,” the weaselley envoy says, “it’s a delight to welcome you to the Twins.” His eyes shift as he sees Jeyne beside him.

“And who is this?” he asks, voice a little strained.

“My intended,” Tytell says, “the lady Jeyne Westerling.” _Stark,_ she corrects in her brain, though she knows that would make the matter worse rather than better. Many of the men sneer. The more diplomatic ones merely make faces.

The most diplomatic of the lot of them says, “I’m sorry, my lord. I was... _unaware_ that you would be bringing your betrothed with you.”

“Where I go my betrothed goes, as she will when she is my wife. Does this displease you?” One of the other men speaks up at this. He has golden blond hair, the weaselley look of the Freys, and a sigil across his breast with both the twin towers of Frey and a golden Lannister lion.

“Of course not, my lord,” the Frey says, smiling a little, “we are kin, are we not?”

“Are you Ser Lyonel?” Tytell asks. Jeyne realizes who this must be now: Lyonel Frey, the son of Genna Lannister and Emmon Frey. 

“Aye,” the man says. Tytell smiles and nods.

“We are sealed by blood,” Tytell says, “a stronger pact could not be made.” Tytell’s words are as empty as the wind, though. The Lannisport Lannisters and the Casterly Rock Lannisters haven’t been true kin in generations, making him and Lyonel Frey no more related than Robb was to the Karstark man whose head he took off.

“Yes,” Ser Lyonel says, “a marriage alliance is strong.” His eyes dart over to Jeyne. “Once it’s been fulfilled.” Jeyne straightens her spine and glares.

“I would watch out for that one, Lord Tytell. Some people” another Frey says, looking straight at her, “just seem to break all their promises and go for however looks the most promising.” Jeyne glares icy daggers at them. _She_ broke no marriage pact. She simply slept with a beautiful boy and fell in love. Is that some crime?

“Yes, some people are not loyal. Not even family alliances can keep them in line.” Lyonel Frey with all his golden, Lannister hair, looked chastened. 

“Perhaps you would like to seek the company of the women?” Tytell suggests, “I’m sure they will have more interesting things to regale you with than this talk of politics. I hear that many of the Frey ladies are fine musicians.” Jeyne nods.

“I would like that much better,” Jeyne says, “thank you, my lord." She glares at every single man that she passes, betrothed included, and makes her way into the castle. Perhaps deeper into the castle she’ll find fewer killers.

  
As she makes her way into the castle, she finds that there is much more hallway than there are friendly inhabitants. The Twins are supposed to be swarming with Walder Frey’s family, working through the woodwork like ants in an old tree trunk, but it seems that Jeyne can’t find a single one not too busy to speak to her.

Finally, she spots a woman who doesn't turn the other way the moment she spots her. The lady has a lovely face with mousy brown hair and sad brown eyes. There’s a babe in her arms with bright auburn hair. _Lady Roslin_ her brain supplies. The girl that Lord Edmure Tully married at the Red Wedding before Robb and his host were all killed. Jeyne feels a pain in her chest as though someone has reached into her and ripped her heart out.

This girl and this castle were the last things Robb ever saw. She’s in the castle where they killed her husband, staring on at the girl who should be her good aunt. Jeyne wants to start crying, but she knows that she can’t. Every time that she shows too much emotion, her position is jeopardized. She doesn’t think that if Lord Tytell set her aside her mother would open her back with open arms, and she would prefer a Lannister unrelated to Robb’s murder over her conniving, uncaring mother.

Jeyne takes a deep breath and taps Lady Roslin on the shoulder.

“Hello,” she says. Lady Roslin sends her skeptical look.

“Hello,” Roslin says cautiously.

“I hear that you are my good aunt,” Jeyne says. Roslin looks confused by that.

“Good aunt?”

“You’re Lady Roslin, are you not?” Jeyne asks.

“I am,” Roslin says, “but I don’t believe that would make me-” Understanding dawns in Roslin’s eyes.

“Jeyne Westerling?” Roslin asks.

“The one and only,” Jeyne says.

“I’ve, uh,” Roslin says, and she looks struck by what to say, “I’ve heard some of the songs?” _Of course she has_ , Jeyne thought sadly. There have been songs written about her by the dozen.

There was “First of her name”.

_Jeyne, Jeyne, first of her name_   
_Wanted to help the Young Wolf reign_   
_But her mom wanted more,_   
_A Lannister whore_   
_And now the Westerlings have all the blame._

She thought that one was clever, at least. It didn’t leave her with the blame, but blamed her mother and her family. And she sure liked being called Jeyne, first of her name. It was a reminder that she was a queen once. 

Then there was “Lady Jeyne Reyne”.

_Jeyne Reyne, a girl who was plain_   
_Became the main reason so many were slain_   
_The Freys left the cause_   
_The Boltons showed claws_   
_And the Lannisters sang through the rains_

She didn’t like that one all that much. Her father had kin slain by Lord Tywin at Castamere, and now her brother was set to be lord of it. It didn’t make the most pleasant associations.

And then of course there was “No Beauty to Lose a Kingdom Over". 

_Not Jenny of Oldstones, the Young Wolf chose_   
_But a half-born Jeyne of the Crag_   
_No beauty to lose a kingdom over_   
_But for her he lost his kingdom and head_

That was probably the most well-known of all of them. Jeyne wondered for a moment what would have happened if she'd thought about Jenny of Oldstones and the way she and Prince Duncan tore the realm apart, would she still have wed Robb? She thinks of his beautiful smile and how he called her beautiful too. How he said that he loved her and wanted to make her his queen.

Aye. She probably still would have. It was selfish, but Jeyne had never been selfless. She _did_ have a bit of her mother in her.

“Yes, I've heard the songs. Apparently I’m not a beauty to lose a kingdom over,” Jeyne says wryly.

“I’m sorry,” Roslin says, “it must be difficult to listen to all of those cruel songs about you. And I would suspect my relatives have not been kind.” Jeyne manages a small smile.

“They have reason to hate me,” Jeyne says, “I _did_ cost your house a crown.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Roslin says, shifting her sleeping babe in her arms, “or your husband, really. My brother Olyvar was his squire. He wanted to stay with King Robb, even after he married you.” Jeyne remembers Olyvar. He was a sweet boy, always scampering off to do what Robb needed and when he wasn’t, he was glued to Robb’s side as if his king's life depended on his presence . The duties of a squire, apparently, were never done.

It had been so hard to get Olyvar to leave whenever they’d wanted a moment alone just for a moment to speak (or kiss, or. well). The boy was so devoted to his duty it was hard to pull him away from it. It was sweet.

“Your brother was sweet to me, back at the Crag. I always liked him.” Roslin grins.

“Everyone likes Olyvar,” she says, “he’s off fostering with our nuncle Rosby now. Our nuncle's been thinking of naming him heir.”

Jeyne was pulled back into imaging the wedding, Robb sitting beside his sweet little squire and laughing again at some childish joke the boy, a knife in hand extending behind his back-\

“When it happened," she asks, "did Olyvar- was Olyvar-”

“Olyvar was not in attendance,” Roslin says, shaking her head adamantly, “he was sent away from the Twins then, along with our older brother Perwyn and a few others who were deemed too loyal.” Roslin took a shaky breath, and Jeyne could see tears in her eyes.

“Olyvar would _never_ help them. He thought that Robb Stark was the Warrior made human.” The tears fell then, in earnest.

“I didn’t want to help either, I promise,” Roslin says, “they- they said that they’d kill me if I didn’t help. My father has so many daughters, and even more granddaughters.” She laughs nervously.

“What good is one pretty little daughter when there’s a whole horde of them?” She shifted her baby on her hip and smiled down at her.

“I love my husband. He’s a sweet man- a caring man. He doesn’t deserve what was done to him. I hear they parade him around in a noose night and day. I fear one day they’ll actually let him loose.”

“Women are all but powerless in this world,” Jeyne says, "I'm sorry for that." Whatever power any of them have they have to ride off their fathers’ or husbands’ or sons’ coattails to obtain, and they have to dig their claws in deep to keep a single bit of it. Roslin bit her lip.

“We are, but we’re not entirely doomed. After the babe’s a little bigger and healthier, I’m to join him at Casterly Rock.”

“Casterly Rock?” Jeyne laughs a little, “Lord Edmure and I are basically the last of Robb’s living kin, and here were are. Sentenced to live forever in Lannister lands.” Robb’s uncle who looked so much like him, a prisoner at Casterly Rock. His wife who he lost his kingdom over a future bride of Lannisport. Would any of them ever escape the Lannisters? It seemed unlikely. 

“Do you hate me?” Roslin asks softly.

“For helping with the Red Wedding?” Jeyne sighs as she shakes her head no, “I know that wasn’t your fault. I doubt I would have done any differently if it were me.” Jeyne had never been brave. She was certainly not brave the way that Robb spoke of his lady mother or his little wild sister, Arya. Jeyne’s mother could be truly frightening when she had her heart set on something, and Jeyne knows that she would have gone along with it for fear of her. Jeyne is still going along with her mother’s will now, even with how much she hates her.

Roslin nods, and looks as though that assuaged part of her guilt.

“Do you hate me for marrying him?” Jeyne asks, “We all know that he would have wed his Frey if he hadn’t met me.” She wishes that he was wed to Roslin or one of her sisters or nieces and this whole ordeal had never occurred. She’d prefer Robb alive and out of reach over him cold in the grave. He was so good, too good even to just rule the North and Riverlands. He should have been born the Baratheon prince and ruled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Roslin tells her, sending her a sympathetic look, “women are all but powerless, remember?” Roslin's baby cooed at that.

"Sh, Bethany," Roslin tells her, gently rocking the stirring babe, "I wasn't talking about you." Jeyne feels embarrassed at that. She hadn't even thought to ask after the sex or name of the baby.

"Where did her name come from?" Jeyne asks, deciding a courtesy that came too late was better than one that didn't come at all.

“It was my mother’s name,” Roslin says, “I think it would have pleased him to name the babe after his older sister, but- well. Lady Stark is not well-liked in the Twins. I cannot imagine what my family would do to a baby named Catelyn Tully.” Jeyne nods. She has many names that she might like to use for a babe in the future, but she knows that many of them are no longer options because of the political climate.

"When will you be joining your husband in Casterly Rock?" Jeyne asks.

"Hopefully soon. I miss him, and Bethany should meet her father."

“Can I write you when I’m back at Lannisport?” Jeyne asks. She does not have any friends. She does not dislike her betrothed, but she cannot call him a confidant. And as much as she still loves her siblings, she cannot write to them with anything resembling true feelings without fear that they’ll tell her mother. She does not want her mother to know anything else about her, ever.

She would like to write Roslin, though. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's just through letters. 

“I would like that very much,” Roslin says, “perhaps when I move to Casterly Rock, I can visit Lannisport often. We can be friends.”

“No,” Jeyne says, smiling at her, “we can be family.” Roslin smiles a little, showing a cute little gap between her two front teeth.

“Would you like to hold your cousin?” Roslin asks, gesturing with her head towards the babe. Jeyne nods, and Roslin gently slides the baby into her arms. Bethany Tully, not Catelyn like she’d really wanted. The baby has Robb’s red hair and Robb’s bright blue eyes. In truth, it looks just like Jeyne and Robb’s own babe might have looked had her mother not drowned it in moontea.

Robb had wanted to name a son Eddard for his lord father, but he had no idea what he would name a daughter. If she’d ended up having one, Jeyne thought they might have named her Catelyn. Her husband admired his lady mother more than anyone but his lord father. Thinking back on it, Jeyne thinks she would have liked to name her Catelyn too. Lady Stark was an admirable woman, far more so than her own mother. 

“She’s a sweet girl,” Jeyne says, “I would like to be a good cousin to her. A good cousin both ways, through marriage and through actions.” Bethany Tully coos in her arms and smiles up at her. Jeyne finds herself smiling down at the little girl and gently rocking her.

"You're just the cutest baby in the whole world, aren't you?" Jeyne asks, her voice settling easily into baby talk. Bethany coos at her as if she's agreeing.

"She likes you," Roslin says, and she leans in close to look at her baby too. Jeyne rather thinks that by the end of this trip, the two of them will be as close as sisters. She truly does like Roslin, more than just about anyone she's ever met.

Bethany Tully's blue eyes sparkle up at her, and Jeyne feels more connected to Robb than she has since her mother had her crown melted up. Her husband was a Stark, but he was a Tully as well. At least she can keep this part of him alive through this: her, her good-aunt, and her husband’s tiny little cousin that he would never meet.


End file.
